Conceivable Visions
by damselthirteen
Summary: A drunken one-night-stand leaves Snape pregnant with Lupin’s child. RLSS slash and m-preg. Chapter IV added 2004-11-12.
1. Prologue

**Conceivable Visions, by Damsel-Most-Horrid.**

_Summary: A drunken one-night-stand leaves Snape pregnant with Lupin's child. Matters are complicated by talk of prediction, prophecy and wizarding saviours, throwing the two old enemies into a mutually despised situation._

_Warnings: Contains slash and Mpreg (male pregnancy). Rated R for language, sexual situations and violence._

_Disclaimer: All 'Harry Potter' related characters and concepts are the creation and property of JK Rowling (etc). No copyright infringement is intended. I write for fun, not profit._

* * *

**Prologue**

Professor Minerva McGonagall sat alone in the staffroom, a leather-bound copy of the recently published Advance Transfiguration Today resting open but unread in her lap. Sincerely grateful for the solitude and quiet, she sunk deeper into the inviting recesses of the armchair she had selected, and surrendered to her growing tiredness.

The meeting had been utterly chaotic, as all had anticipated. As an abysmal start, the Minister and his aides immediately and flatly refused that it be considered a council of war and the proceeding rapidly deteriorated from there. Still technically in convalescence from her assault at the end of the last academic year, Minerva found the whole fiasco extremely draining and was relieved when it had drawn to a close.

Now, back in the comfort of Hogwarts, she prayed perhaps she could find time to unwind, if only for a brief period. As the late evening sun shone in through the westward windows, warming her hands and face, she permitted her eyes to slip shut and her head to nod; the edges of sleep washed over.

She suspected she had just drifted off when the staffroom door clattered open, and Sybill Trelawney swept in with her strings of ill-matching beads jingling noisily around her neck. Her eyes snapping open, and her peace so rudely disturbed, Minerva groaned inwardly as Trelawney settled herself in the armchair opposite her own.

"Good evening, Sybill," she said sleepily. "A surprise to see you down here."

That was no exaggeration. Minerva could not recall any occasion she had met with the other woman in the staffroom in all the years they had worked together; she was too weary to let this change bother her now, however. The woman rarely strayed from her own private sanctuary in the North Tower for long periods at a time; she would most likely soon retreat again, allowing Minerva to resume her nap.

"You are well, I trust?"

Trelawney regarded her with her bug-like eyes momentarily, before smiling broadly, flashing her crazy, crooked teeth, complete with inappropriate spots of bright fuchsia lipstick. Other oddities in her make-up stared blatantly at Minerva; the mismatched eye-shadow was the most prominent of these, lurid green and pink smudged across each lid.

"I am in perfect health, thank you," Trelawney replied airily.

Minerva nodded, returning the smile weakly. A note of scepticism rose up in her. Reluctantly, she admitted to herself that which she was unlikely to voice in any open discourse: she was more than a little concerned for the woman. No one would ever venture to call Sybill Trelawney "normal", yet recently her eccentricities seemed more pronounced -- more _disturbing_. She remained as withdrawn and aloof as ever, yet to Minerva her manner seemed to lack the theatrics it once held; that facade had dropped to reveal –

Minerva had no idea what.

Gently, she reached out and gave the woman's hand a reassuring pat. "How about some tea?" she said. With a quick wave of her wand she conjured a laden tea-tray and a mellow aroma filled the room. At the prospect of a hot beverage, Trelawney grinned wildly once more.

"I think there are some biscuits somewhere," Minerva added, hauling herself to her aching feet. "Probably in one of the cupboard." There was a tin of shortbreads around, she knew, but they were her own personal supply. No matter how amiable she might ever be feeling towards the Trelawney, she had no intention of sharing those. The custard creams would have to do, if she could recall where they were hidden.

Rummaging through the cupboards, checking various tins to little avail, she barely heard Trelawney begin to speak.

"_It will happen tonight."_

Minerva frowned into a tin of stale old crumbs she has just prised the lid from. "Sorry Sybill," she said. "What was that?"

"_The one who can assist us in these dire times is coming."_

Slowly, unsure of her own ears, Minerva twisted on her heels and nearly dropped the tin she was holding. Trelawney was on her feet, facing Minerva and barely a foot from her. Her whole body was rigid; her eye had fallen back in her head like big white marbles and held no focus within them. Minerva gasped.

"Oh dear Lord - she's finally cracked," she thought, gripping the edge of the sideboard behind her. "She's having some kind of fit!"

Trelawney's face twitched._ "A child of great importance and magic will this night be conceived to be born of a wizard,"_ she continued, her wispy tones echoing eerily around the staffroom, sending a shiver down Minerva's spine.

"_Our saviour is coming."_

As quickly as it had come on, Trelawney's madness lost its grip. Her body and face softened and her eyes swam back into focus. She started, shaking herself like one who had just caught themselves from a brief slumber.

Minerva exhaled sharply, releasing the breath she hadn't even realised she was holding. She spun what she had just heard around in her head, unable to weave it into any manner of sense.

"Sybill? What did you just say?"

Trelawney snapped her chin up, her eyes glistening as a sweet smile crept onto her face.

"Have you found those biscuits yet, Minerva?"

* * *

**A/N:** My take on a cliché. When I originally started to write this story, I simply planned it to be: "Snape pregnant with prophecy baby, Snape and Lupin fall in love, Snape has baby and they all live happily ever after." Which is all very nauseating. While I confess much of this story will read like that old cliché, an alternative ending occurred to me that I will use to give the whole story a new, slightly mean slant (eventually, I hope).


	2. Chapter I

**Chapter I**

Although he had never had his head on the receiving end of a dagger before, Severus felt a sudden rush of sympathy for anyone who had. He was hungover, most obviously and undeniably so, possibly more than he had been for several years. He probably shouldn't have drunk quite as much as he had done, but currently shifting the blame to the Ministry for that was more than a little tempting. With all their pompous blathering, the damn fools would probably have him a card-carrying alcoholic before the year was out.

One hand clasped to his head to alleviate the spinning, Severus rolled over to grope for the phial he kept on beside his bed. Quickly fumbling the stopper loose with unsteady fingers, he downed its contents swiftly, and decided that, without a doubt, the best thing to do was to go back to sleep. He had great confidence in his self-brewed potion; clear-headedness was all but guaranteed upon waking the second time around. Tentatively, he rolled back over to get himself comfortable once more and--

He received the most terrible shock of his entire existence.

Oh, no -- this could not be possible! This was a cruel, drink-induced hallucination – a delusion, a dream more horrid than any nightmare that had ever plagued his sleep. Screwing his eyes shut, Severus fought to rid himself of the phantasm. This wasn't real – it couldn't be.

Slowly, summoning up all reserves of courage, he peaked beneath his eyelids only to have his hope smashed. Lupin was still there, and a quick glance underneath the sheets confirmed Severus worse fears: they were both naked.

Panic engulfed him. The hazy mess that was the previous night started to swim about in his head, spewing images upon him that he had no desire to behold. How could he have allowed this to happen? Covering his face with an arm, Severus groaned and tried to will order to the barrage of memories.

A wisp of a memory began to form. The pouring of alcohol, the chinking of glasses; Severus bristled at the implication of that.

He had offered Lupin a drink? That, in itself, was absurd. Whatever had possessed him to do such a thing? What was the werewolf doing in his chambers in the first place?

Something else started to stir. Severus groaned again. Yes, that was it - the potion. Lupin had come to enquire about his potion. It would be ready on time, Severus had snapped. Just like every bloody month.

Whatever happened next was foggy; Severus dared not dwell upon it. How drinks had come to be shared he was certain he did not know. Clearly, he must have been quite drunk by this stage – all other explanation were ludicrous.

Cringing, Severus fought against the first forming memories of what all this must have lead to. Terrible, fragmented flashes assaulted him: lips upon furious lips, hands groping and teasing. Severus remembered soft, eager moans rising from deep within. He felt suddenly sick.

"This is absurd!" he thought to himself. The very idea that he would sleep with Lupin under any circumstances wouldn't even be suggested by a madman. True, for an impoverished middle-aged werewolf, Lupin was not unattractive, but there was only so far looks would go. In Lupin's case, they most certainly did not lead into the bed of Severus Snape.

He had no time to contemplate what to do next before Lupin began to stir. Waking, he blinked groggily for a moment. There was a strong note of discomfort in the disorientation that fell over his face.

"Severus – I – what," he stumbled, then quickly clamped a hand to his head. "Ouch."

Were Lupin not sharing his bed, Severus would have gained great pleasure from his blatant pain. As it was, the situation was too abysmal for humour, even at the werewolf's expense.

Recovering a little, Lupin, too, risked a glance beneath the sheets. "Oh God! Severus, we didn't--"

"It rather appears we did, Lupin." The evidence was too damning for him to deny anything. He shifted in the bed, drawing the sheets closer around his naked body. Shockingly, he realised he was more than a little sore, his body feeling abused in ways he hadn't been familiar with for a very long time. This brought him to another horrific conclusion: he had allowed Lupin to take _him._

Lupin groaned. "Oh God. I can't believe--"

"Just shut up and get out," Severus snapped.

Lupin looked more than a touch ill as he nodded. "Er, yes -- of course," he said, slipping from the bed. One hand still clutched at his head while the other did its best to keep him unexposed. "May I use your shower?"

"No."

"Fine," Lupin said briskly, stooping to detangle his robes from the heap of garments on the floor. He pulled them on over his head, unsteadily. "Fine – I'll be going."

Severus grunted.

Rolling over to put his back to the scene, Severus thought that sounded like the best idea Lupin had had in the whole of his pitiful existence. Moments later, upon hearing the bedchamber door click shut, he swore to himself that he would not touch alcohol again.

* * *

For the next few days, Severus waited in terror for Lupin to appear in his office proclaiming "we need to talk about the other night", or some similar nonsense. Naturally, he had his strategy of defence planned out to the last detail. Not wanting to waste his words, he would _kindly_ inform Lupin that the issue was not open for discussion; if he was he was under any illusion that it was, he was most likely rabid and should be put down at the closest possible convenience. With any luck, the werewolf would get the message, but if all else failed Severus was more than prepared to hex him into the following week.

A week passed, however, and no such event occurred. The only sign Severus received that Lupin had, unfortunately, not died in some obliging ditch was the fact that the goblet of Wolfsbane potion he left at Headquarters each evening was gone by morning. With a satisfied smirk, he recalled reading that the potion was reputably one of the foulest tasting ever invented.

As another week passed, he found his tension beginning to ease. That was at least until Professor McGonagall turned up in his office one morning to announce his presence was required at a full Order meeting. Immediately, he felt a headache coming on and by the time he had taken the Portkey to Grimmauld Place with McGonagall and the headmaster he felt as if his brain was about trying to splice itself in two. A queasy sensation gripped his stomach.

By midday, the majority of the Order of the Phoenix were gathered in the parlour of the old Black family residence. Spotting Lupin perched on a stool in one corner, Severus quickly sought out the seat the furthest away he could possibly get. Removing his cloak, he slung it over the back of his chair and sat down.

Proceedings began quickly and progressed smoothly, but Severus could not concentrate. His stomach continued to churn and he was exceedingly grateful he had forgone breakfast. Sinking deeper into his chair, he permitted himself to admit he had been feeling slightly off colour for a couple of days. Nothing major: a little light-headed and a little sick. More than likely it was just virus he would shake off within a day or so. In the meantime he probably had bottle of something to suppress the symptoms. He had no patience with the inconvenience of illness.

The meeting drew to a close a short while after one. Those present began to file out of the room, some discussing issues that had been raised over the last hour, others chatting about more trivial matters. He overheard that insufferable Tonks girl bickering with Shacklebolt about a recent foul committed by the Wigtown Wanderers.

"Yes, but if Hedley had only listened to his Keeper," she said animatedly. "There would have been no problem at all."

Groaning inwardly, Severus cast a quick glance around the room and found only a handful people remaining. Molly Weasley cleared away the coffee while her husband stood talking to Moody and rocking back and forth on his heels. He saw Lupin, still perched on his stool, in conversation with Dumbledore. Catching Severus' eye, the headmaster turned.

"Are you ready to leave, Severus?" he asked. "Minerva is waiting downstairs with the return Portkey."

Severus nodded and stood quickly. Too quickly. His vision greyed; his sore head pounded as it drained of blood. Wavering on his feet, he reached out to balance himself on the wall.

"Severus, are you alright?"

Severus looked up to see both Dumbledore and Lupin staring at him. Lupin's mouth has fallen open slightly. Scowling, he silently damned them both to hell both simply for being present.

"Yes, headmaster," he lied, clenching his teeth tightly. "Shall we go?"

"Severus, all the colour has drained from your face," Dumbledore said. A bazaar mix of concern and intrigue flashed briefly in his eyes. "Perhaps you should back sit down, or even take a lie down, if you are not feeling well enough to travel."

Sliding from his stool, Lupin approached them. "You may take one of the spare bed rooms for an hour or so if you'd rather head back to Hogwarts later."

"I said _I'm fine_," Severus hissed. If the werewolf thought he was going to lie down anywhere with in a one hundred mile radius of him he was very much mistaken.

"Very well. If you are sure--" Dumbledore regarded him sceptically for a second then nodded. "Let us depart."

Severus swept from the room leaving Dumbledore to bid Lupin goodbye. Downstairs, he found McGonagall waiting in the hall, holding a tattered paperback novel. The prospect of travelling by Portkey at present was far from appealing, but given the alternative was to remain behind, with Lupin lurking around, he decided it was worth the discomfort. Back at Hogwarts, perhaps he would take a brief lie down, not that his dignity would allow him admit it to Dumbledore. The last thing he needed was the old wizard knowing he was feeling ill and making a fuss.

The headmaster joined them after a few moments and took the return Portkey from his deputy.

"Are we ready? Twenty seconds to go."

He held out the book and McGonagall grasped hold of it between thumb and fingers. Taking a deep breath to prepare himself, Severus followed her lead and waited. After only a moment, the world lurched suddenly from beneath his feet with that familiar hooking sensation behind his navel. A wave of nausea washed over and engulfed him. Barely before his feet hit solid ground again, he stumbled forward, doubling over as his stomach emptied itself onto the entrance hall floor.

So much for dignity.

"Oh dear, Severus. Perhaps you should pay a visit to Poppy."

Whipping his mouth on the sleeve of his robes, Severus straightened up and glared at the headmaster. "I think not," he said. Casting a quick charm on the floor, he made to leave before either he or McGonagall could utter another word. This was, of course, far too much to hope for.

"Severus, you seem to be rather unwell." Dumbledore regarded him with a concerned eye. "You should allow Poppy to--"

"No."

"I am afraid I cannot take no for an answer, Severus. You know we need you in good health. Perhaps I should escort you to the Infirmary. Are you still a little unsteady on your feet?"

"No, Headmaster," Severus lied through his gritted teeth. "I will take myself there. Thank you for your concern."

"As you wish," Dumbledore replied. He smiled kindly and then added, "Minerva and I are having afternoon tea around four o'clock. If you are feeling better, I hope you will join us. Good day, Severus."

Severus graced the headmaster with a curt nod as he turned to depart. Making his way up the main stairs, Severus placed a hand over his unsettled stomach. "Thank you so much for that little display," he growled.

It being the school holidays, Hogwarts' Infirmary was devoid of patients. That, Severus thought, was perhaps one thing he could be grateful for. Given that students spread gossip like dogs spread fleas, Severus was without a doubt that, had this been term time, the whole school would have found out that he was ill with in a matter of minutes. He wasn't sure he could live the indignity down.

At the sound of the Infirmary door opening, Madame Pomfrey scuttled out of her office. "Good afternoon, Professor," she said brightly, stirring Severus' nausea. "How may I be of assistance?"

"I am unwell," Severus stated immediately, decided it best to get straight to the point. He clung weakly to the hope that he might get this over with quickly and painlessly. "Nausea, vomiting, dizziness and a blinding headache. I have come for a check up on the headmaster's orders."

Pomfrey nodded. "Very well," she said. "Pop yourself up on one of the beds for a lie down while I get my wand. A few tests should tell us what is wrong and what I can do for you."

She disappeared back into here office. Severus took the bed nearest the door. Lying back, he folded his arms squarely across his chest, one hand straying downwards to sooth his stomach. He despised hospitals, loathed the way they made him feel weak and without autonomy. If he didn't have to set foot it one again for the rest of his life it would be too soon.

A clip-clopping of heels on the linoleum floor alerted him to Pomfrey's return. "Already lying down I see, Professor. That's a good start. This will only take a moment." Rolling up her sleeves, the nurse pulled out her wand from the pocket of her apron and held it above his head, muttering a spell beneath her breath. Severus felt a tingling warmth spread down his spine as she chased the charm downwards, finally stopping with her wand held just above his navel. She frowned.

"Curious," she said. "From the symptoms you described I rather fancied you had a virus, but I can't find evidence of any kind of pathogen at all. It must be something else. Some thing you ate, perhaps. Do you have any allergies, Professor?"

Severus shook his head. It seemed this was going to take longer than he hoped.

"Any chance that you have been poisoned?"

"I doubt it."

"Hmm, well, it may be worth investigating anyway," Pomfrey suggested. "It's quite a simple procedure involving--"

"A blood analysis potion."

"Well, yes." The nurse at least had the decency to look sheepish; Severus took a perverse pleasure from this. "Well, I suppose you could do that yourself, but since you are here...."

"Be my guest." He waved his hand absently and Pomfrey hurried off to her store-cupboard. While he thought it highly unlikely that he had been poisoned, Severus reluctantly resigned to the fact that he should probably play it safe. Sitting up, he folded back his right sleeve in anticipation of the procedure and waited. Pomfrey returned from her office a few moments later, a bottle of a milky-white potion in one hand and a syringe in the other. Severus felt a fresh wave of nausea wash over him at the sight.

"This will only take a moment," Pomfrey assured, setting the bottle down on the bedside table and unscrewing the lid. Dipping the syringe into it, she drew up a little of its contents before turning to Severus. Severus looked away, disgusted at himself for doing so but not feeling as if he could stomach watching, and waited. He felt one of Pomfrey's cold hands grasp his right elbow firmly and her thumb rub at a vein. A second later, the needle breeched his skin.

"I'll be as quick as I--" Pomfrey muttered. "There -- all done. You can look now."

Severus looked up to find the nurse holding the syringe up to the light, examining it. His blood had turned the potion a murky pink inside the glass; a diagnosis formed on the outside. Squinting, he read:

"Significant hormonal imbalance; no indication of poisoning."

"'Significant hormonal imbalance!'" he implored with a snort. "What am I, pregnant?"

Pomfrey frowned, lowering the syringe and setting it aside. "That is one possibility."

"One poss-? Preposterous! I am _male_,Pomfrey!"

"Male pregnancy is rare but not undocumented," Pomfrey said softly, shaking her head. "But you're right: it is highly unlikely. This imbalance is probably no more than the result of stress; though of course --- Professor, have you had unprotected sexual intercourse recently?"

Severus scowled darkly. "I hardly think that is any of your business."

"I am only trying to establish whether it would be worth running a pregnancy test, Professor. Just to be certain. You know anything you disclose is entirely confidential, so if you could just--"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, I have had unprotected sexual intercourse recently, so just run the infernal test." Severus gritted his teeth. The sooner she did, he figured, the sooner she would come to her senses. He suppressed the urge to laugh at the ridiculous notion that he had been impregnated by--

Dear God – that was too terrible to consider.

Pomfrey hurried to her office again and returned with an empty glass jar. She handed to him. "You need to urinate in this," she said, wisely avoiding his gaze as she pulled the screen around his bed and stepped away. "Take your time. When you are ready, bring it to me."

Sitting alone on the edge of the bed, Severus regarded the jar disdainfully. Thankfully, his bladder was reasonably full and he wouldn't be delayed further by having to wait for nature to call. Grimacing, he flung up his robes, unbuttoned his trousers, and began to fill the jar without trying to think about it too much. This day, he concluded, could get no worse. That was, of course, unless this ridiculous test turned out to be positive, a notion he dismissed immediately. Like the woman said, it was just stress.

And who could blame him for being stressed?

After buttoning up his trousers and washing his hands in the basin by the bed, he carefully picked up the jar and made his way around the screen. Within her office, Pomfrey sat at her desk, another bottle of potion standing in front of her. Severus recognised his own handwriting on the label.

"Come in and take a seat, Professor." The nurse nodded towards a spare chair in the corner of her office. "This will only take minute. Your sample?"

Severus handed her the jar but did not sit. Remaining in the doorway, he watched as Pomfrey drew a small amount of the potion into a glass pipette. Gently, so as not to spill any of its contents, she moved the pipette to the jar of urine and emptied it out. The potion hissed and smoked a little on contact; the two fluids began to mix non-eventfully. A satisfied smirk crept onto Severus' face for a second. He was about to turn to leave when a terrible sight stole the breath from his chest.

A bright blue precipitate was forming on the sample's surface.

"No!"

Pomfrey leaned heavily back in her chair, aghast. "Oh my, Professor."

"Run the test again!" Severus demanded. "There has to be some mistake."

"Professor, I--" Pomfrey's eyes fell upon the potion bottle. Following her gaze, Severus looked once more to the label he had written. Two words jumped out at him, viciously: 'completely accurate'.

Suddenly, sitting down didn't seem like such a bad idea after all. Collapsing into the spare chair, Severus held his head in his hands for a moment, before running his fingers back though his hair and looking up, eyes pleading with Pomfrey to say that there had been some mistake.

She held his gaze, mouth open. "My God -- I'm so sorry."

She stood abruptly and turned to the fireplace. Grabbing a handful of Floo powder, she flung it into the grate.

"Albus, there's something you need to see"

"No! Don't get the headmaster!" Severus spoke too late; a spinning figure had already appeared in the fireplace. A mere second later, Albus Dumbledore stepped into the small room, gently brushing soot from his robes. Little specks stippled his white hair and beard.

"What may I do for you, Poppy?" he greeted brightly. "And Severus! How are you--" He cut off abruptly mid-sentence as his eyes fell to the test. "My goodness!"

Severus buried his head in his hands once more, fingertips digging into his scalp as he prayed for the floor to open greedily and swallow him up. A hand was laid on his shoulder, making him flinch, but he could not look up. If he did not, perhaps this nightmare would disappear.

"Severus, look at me." He felt Dumbledore crouched down beside him. "I must ask you something."

Slowly and reluctantly, twisting his head in his hands, Severus turned to face the headmaster. He tried not to look him in the eyes nor ponder his expression. He felt too ashamed to know what thoughts were presently going though the man's mind.

"Severus, this is very important," Dumbledore continued. "When did you conceive?"

Severus closed his eyes and tried to recover his tongue. "A week last Saturday," he whispered, finally.

"You are sure?"

He nodded, certain of it. It had been the night following the Ministry meeting that Lupin and he had drunkenly stumbled into bed with each other and, beside that one catastrophic event, his life had been empty of sexual activity for more years than he cared to recall. There was no question that this could have happened any other night or, he realised with a sickening jolt, that anyone else but the werewolf could be responsible for his condition.

* * *

**A/N:** Many thanks to those of you who reviewed the prologue. Feedback is always welcome.

Another huge thank you Sparkler for the beta.


	3. Chapter II

**Chapter II**

"Take a few sips of this."

Severus started out of his reverie and looked up. In his hands, the headmaster extended a dainty china cup out to him.

"Sweet tea," he explained. "For the shock. I would offer you something stronger, but I am not certain that would be wise, given your condition."

Severus winced inwardly before shakily taking the beverage offered to him. Oh yes, he thought, his condition: this dreadful _thing_ that was supposedly dwelling and growing inside him this very minute, leeching off of him. Every part of his mind currently desired only one thing: to put an end to this absurdity; he had every intention of telling the headmaster so as soon as he found his tongue. The very idea that he would carry the child to term - Lupin's child no less - was unthinkable. There was no question in his mind that it would have to be terminated as soon as possible.

The headmaster settled down behind his desk, his fingers steepled before his chest and regarding Severus carefully. "I expect this must be a bit of a surprise to you," he said.

Severus snorted as he sipped the disgustingly sugary tea. That had to take the award for understatement of the century. A bit of a surprise, indeed!

"It is a surprise for me too, Severus," Dumbledore continued. "I was not aware that you were involved. I hope your partner will be happy with the news."

Severus frowned. "There is no such person," he said darkly. "I – it was a one night stand and this-" he waved a hand vaguely at his stomach "-Is definitely not wanted." He had never thought the headmaster such a naïve old fool that he believed his faculty immune the lure of random sexual acts. Clearly, he had misjudged.

Dumbledore sunk back into his chair and dropped his hands to his lap with a despondent sigh. "I was afraid you were going to say that," he said. "It changes everything, Severus, and proves for a rather complicated situation."

"I fail to see what is complicated about it, headmaster," Severus replied. "Just discretely get a Healer from St. Mungo's and allow him to perform--"

Dumbledore cut him off. "I am afraid that termination would be an unwise course of action, Severus. If I am correct in my thinking, it will be essential for you to carry your offspring to term."

Severus scowled angrily. "And why is that, headmaster?" he demanded. "Is it because I'm a wizard? I admit I know extremely little about the phenomena of male pregnancy, but surely..."

The headmaster shook his head. "A wizard can have a pregnancy terminated in much the same way as a witch can," he explained. "But there is something else; there is something that I believe will make it vital that you keep the child developing within you.

"Tell me Severus, do you know there are only two circumstances under which one wizard can bear child of another? Do you know what they are?"

"I do not," Severus said, with an eyebrow arched. His fingers curled tightly around the cup in his hands. Surely the headmaster could see how ridiculous the notion of allowing this pregnancy to continue was? "Pray – enlighten me."

He received only a soft smile for his consternation. "I will," Dumbledore said. "The first is that if the two wizards are in a loving, stable relationship, normally of many years, a child may spontaneously and magically be conceived; some couples use potions and charms to increase their chances of conceiving in such a manner. There have been a handful-documented accounts of unusual form of procreation within the last few decades, but the phenomena is still not very well understood. Of course, we have already discounted this, but a good knowledge of ones situation is always wise, I am sure you will agree."

Severus sniffed, but said nothing.

"The second is that conception may occur if the child is in someway... needed," the headmaster continued. "This has always been a controversial subject, and hence highly under researched, but never fully discredited."

Severus' forehead knitted together in yet another frown. This whole conversation was too surreal. "I am not sure I follow," he admitted. "What do you mean, sir, by 'needed'? What does this have to do with my... _condition_?"

"Everything." Dumbledore held Severus' gaze over the top of his glasses; his face turned serious very suddenly. "I think," he said, rising carefully from behind his desk, "It will be best if I show you."

Severus watched as the headmaster drew his wand from his sleeve and placed the tip of it to his temple. Turning to the cabinet behind him, he drew a shimmering, silver fibre from his head. His wand extended, Dumbledore's thought strands dripped softly into the swirling depths of the Pensieve that sat waiting. They became lost within it. From his stand beside the headmaster's desk, Fawkes the phoenix observed the goings on with a beady eye, his delicate, feathered head cocked to one side.

"A couple of weeks ago," Dumbledore said, stepping back. "Minerva informed me of something most curious she had observed. I think perhaps you should have a look for yourself. In here." He nodded to the Pensieve.

"Very well." Confused, Severus rose and took a tentative step forward. Glancing over his shoulder, he threw the headmaster a questioning look, only to receive an encouraging nod.

The contents of the Pensive swirled wildly like wind-whipped fog. Kneeling down in front of the cabinet, Severus drew in a deep, sharp breath. Curious, yet apprehensive, he lowered his face towards the depths and felt an icy breeze upon his skin. As he watched the fog become more erratic, a half-formed scene swam before his eyes. With a sudden rush of courage, he plunged his face into the Pensieve.

At first, he thought nothing had happened. He was still in Dumbledore's office and the headmaster was sitting behind his desk. Then he noticed they were not alone. Behind him, on the chair he had just vacated, sat Professor McGonagall, nibbling on one of her infernal shortbreads.

"I'm almost certain of it, Albus," she said. "You should have seen her. It was like she was in some kind of trance and afterward, when I questioned her about it, she had no idea what I was talking about."

The headmaster raised a pair of bushy white eyebrow. "You believe she was making a prediction?" he asked. "A true one, I mean."

McGonagall nodded, brushing crumbs from her robes. "It must sound absurd, coming from me, but I am almost certain of it."

Severus wandered around the desk to stand behind the headmaster. His eyes falling upon McGonagall, he saw her face solid with conviction. She looked up and for a moment, before remembering that was impossible, he believed her to be staring directly at him; she was simply gazing into middle-distance.

"Her eyes had rolled back into her head," she continued in a soft, contemplative voice. "I thought she was having some kind of fit, but she just kept on speaking -- blathering on about some saviour child." She shook her head. "No, not blathering," she corrected. "It seemed quite real."

Dumbledore clasped his hands together in front of him and lend forward in his chair. "My dear Minerva," he said, softly. His eyes shone keenly behind his spectacles. "I think you should perhaps start at the very beginning. Tell me everything."

McGonagall nodded and drew a breath before plunging into her story. Perched on the side of the headmaster's desk, Severus listened aghast as she recalled the whole incident. She spoke nervously, each word added haltingly to the last as if she were building up a tale she knew too incredible to support itself. Severus trained his eyes on the headmaster, waiting to catch some change of expression on the old man's face. It didn't come. A wave of disbelief and panic rolled over him and settled uncomfortably in his queasy stomach.

"That will do," the headmaster said when McGonagall had finished, sounding a little distant. She didn't seem to hear him.

"That will do."

A hand rested on his shoulder and Severus suddenly realised that the voice had not come from within the memory but from without. The hand gripped tighter on his shoulder as the headmaster pulled him from the Pensieve. Feeling suddenly giddy, he stumbled and was guided into a chair. Dumbledore thrust another cup of sweet tea at him.

"I take it you understand what I have just showed you?"

Severus nodded, wishing he didn't. "You think –- you think that..." His tongue knotted itself, preventing him from continuing. Desperately, he tried to cling to the last strands of hope that this whole thing might be some horrid dream, but they slipped though his fingertips. "This cannot be happening."

Dumbledore patted him firmly on the shoulder and turned away. "I very much wish that it wasn't, Severus," he said. "I know that you have been though a lot in this life already and if there were anyway--"

He cut off abruptly. Shoulders dropping, he sighed, "I does not do for us to dwell on that which is not. We must focus on the matter in hand."

"The wizard Trelawney was referring to was me?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes. Of course we cannot be certain, but--"

"I'm carrying this saviour child?" He snorted in disbelief. "Headmaster, you are surely not serious!"

Dumbledore came to stand by the fireplace; his hands rested uneasily on the mantelpiece. "My dear Severus," he said. "I am afraid I am. Please do not question my judgement or sanity here. As fantastical and horrific as all this may seem to you, I assure you what we are about to discuss is the undoubtedly the truth. I will not pretend otherwise."

Severus took a shaking sip of tea. "You will forgive me if I am apprehensive to be reassured by those words."

"Yes, of course. But you know, Severus, I only lie when I must. Can you think of an occasion for me be spinning such an unbelievable tale?"

Severus looked up, a dark frown creasing his brow. He made no reply.

"I do not expect you to believe me just yet."

Severus snorted, scowling darkly. "'Saviour child'?" he said. "I thought that was Potter's job description."

Dumbledore turned and looked at him seriously. "For the time being, I think it would be wise to assume this has nothing to do with Harry. Without evidence to the contrary, this prediction and the prophecy that was recorded sixteen years ago are not necessarily connected. Like I said, we need to focus on the matter at hand."

The matter at hand.

Severus suddenly felt in danger of suffocating under the weight of his situation, and all that was implied, hit him. "What are we to do?" he asked, apprehensively.

"We need to get organised," the headmaster replied, sitting down in the chair opposite Severus, hands clasped in his lap. "For now, only the most senior members of the Order will be informed of this development. Minerva, of course, will be told, as will Alastor. Firstly, however, you must answer me this: who is the father?"

Severus nearly upset the teacup he was holding. That was not a question he wanted to answer. Burying his face in his free hand, he hid behind his bony fingers, ashamed and embarrassed.

"Severus, this is important," Dumbledore persisted. "I take it you can remember who the father was?"

Severus looked up and nodded, tightly, as if it were excruciating to do so. He drew in a breath and whispered, "Lupin. Lupin is the father."

"Remus? I didn't realise that the two of you were--"

"We are not!" Severus growled. "We were drunk and it was a mistake. Headmaster, I see no reason why Lupin should be informed of--."

"Severus, he must," Dumbledore cut him off. "For the good of the child. If my suspicions are correct about the importance of this child, he or she must have the most stable possible. That implies two parents, Severus."

Severus' fist clenched. "Two parents? Headmaster, you cannot be suggesting what I think you are. Please tell me I misunderstand!"

"I am so very sorry, Severus," the headmaster said, shaking his head. "I believe you understand me perfectly. Like I have already said, we need organise ourselves. I am not talking about marriage just yet, but for the duration of your pregnancy I think perhaps Remus should move to be close to you. Your chambers are expansive."

"Oh no!" Severus exclaimed, horrified. "Absolutely not! Headmaster, are you out of your mind?"

"Severus--"

"No!" Fuming, he sent his cup flying to the floor. "Tell Lupin about the pregnancy you must, but he is not setting foot in my chambers ever again. It is his fault I am in this infernal situation in the first place!"

With a flick of his wand, Dumbledore cleared the spilled tea from his rug. "Severus, calm down," he insisted. "If you think rationally, you will see this is quite a practical solution. We will have to confirm with Poppy to be sure, but I believe you are in for a rough few months. Your body simply is not used to the hormonal fluxes it is going to face and you will experience a lot of discomfort; probably much more than any pregnant witch. Remus could help you though that."

Severus stared at the old wizard in disbelief. "Headmaster, this is absurd," he protested. "You are asking me to think rationally? With all due respect, this is a most irrational solution! Stable upbringing, sir? We would tear each other apart before the child is even born! I will not go along with this. I am sorry."

"You are not sorry in the slightest, Severus," Dumbledore asserted. Standing, he moved back to the fireplace. "I am, however: sorry that I cannot take no for an answer. This decision will work out for the best, I assure you."

Biting his lip furiously, Severus watched the headmaster though narrowed eyes as he retrieved an ornate wooden pot from the mantelpiece. Carefully removing the lid, he scooped a handful of shimmering Floo powder from within and flung it into the grate.

"Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place."

* * *

Remus had kept a diary since his school days. Each evening, he would religiously take up a quill, before he turned in, and commit his day to parchment. Everything was documented, from the most mundane and trivial to the harrowing events that had carved his life so far. Flicking back a few pages to two weeks previous, he studied the entry that began "Last night, Severus and I had sex."

"We were both drunk," he had gone on to write. "But this is a poor excuse for the act. Although my hazy recollection indicates that I found the night enjoyable (it has been a long time), the fact remains that he is a colleague with whom I have always shared mutual disfavour. What occurred lacked professionalism and I am disgusted with myself. We have never got on well, and now I fear I have only made matters worse. I anticipate that he will avoid me and I, in turn, will give him space until the whole thing blows over, if it ever does.

"I do not feel the need to question him about the event. I think there stands an unspoken agreement between us: what happened was a huge mistake. I do not feel contempt towards Severus as dear Sirius did, but I dislike his ways and am certain that my actions did not stem from any repressed feelings of attraction. I believe my best course of action would be to try and forget last night completely."

Remus cringed as he reread the words, the way he always did when he looked back in his diaries. As he recalled, he has rushed the entry off, feeling it was his duty to write something about what had happened, but at the same time not wishing to make it sound as if the night held any significance.

Now, he saw the error in his pervious thinking.

That night had been significant, but in no way he would have ever have anticipated. Flicking back to the bookmarked page of his diary, he stared blankly at the seven words that graced the parchment:

"I am going to be a father."

Words refused to flow for a long while after that sentence, and Remus had laid down his quill. It wasn't exactly words he was having difficulty with, he realised, so much as the entire concept. After all, it wasn't an everyday occurrence to be told one had impregnated another wizard.

Picking up his quill again, and taking up some ink, he forced a few more words onto parchment. "When Albus told me, I asked him if he was joking. It was a stupid thing to say of course – Albus would never joke about something so important – but I couldn't think of anything else to say. I just sat there, my mouth hanging open stupidly. How could Severus be pregnant?

"Albus went on to explain the prediction to me. 'A child of great importance and magic will this night' -the night we had sex- 'be conceived to be born of a wizard' – Severus. It both made sense to me and didn't all at the same time. Severus could not be pregnant, but yet, why make up such a tale? I was hesitant to accept the truth.

"Severus did not react well to my inquiry as to what the next course of action was to be. Interestingly, his anger did not seem directed at me at that point but towards Albus. 'The headmaster seems to think it would be a good idea if we live together,' he informed, icy tones indicating exactly what he thought of the proposal. 'I have already told him it is his most idiotic idea to date of course, but he insists.'"

Remus laid his quill aside once more and glanced around the room that had been his home for the past year. Upon the bed, his trunk sat waiting to be packed with his robes, books and other worldly belongings. Around teatime the following day, he would, as instructed, summon the Knight Bus and travel to Hogwarts, where he was to take up residence in the dungeons.

There was no way out of it.

He was under no illusion as to how welcome he would be. "The headmaster holds this curious belief there will be some 'happy-little-couple' arrangement between us, Lupin," Severus had sneered, when they were alone briefly. "But allow me to assure you, I do not. If, by any chance, you are suffering from this same delirium, I suggest you snap out of it. As far as I am concerned, you got me into this blasted situation, Lupin, and I would like nothing more than to never, _ever_ see you in my life again."

Remus realised the challenge of the days that stretch ahead of him with a feeling of cold dread that spread in his stomach. Sighing, he took up his quill for a final time and signed the evening's entry off. There were a thousand more things he felt he could write, but it did not matter. This day was one that would be etched in his memory forever.

* * *

Morning sickness, Severus decided, was a misnomer. He had still been vomiting well into the afternoon and the nausea showed no sign of abating by early evening. Supposed savour child or not, Severus' day had been so horribly vile that he was quite certain whatever was growing inside him could be nothing other than an entity of pure evil.

At shortly after seven, to cap it all, Lupin arrived. The headmaster had not given him a time to expect the werewolf, leaving only the instruction "be civil", and Severus was consequently unprepared for his arrival. As he stood just inside the doorway, trunk at his feet and a scuffed leather briefcase clutched against his chest, Lupin stared pointedly at Severus' dressing gown.

"You're not dressed," he observed. "I'm sorry -- if this is a bad time, I can come back later."

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, more out of habit and effect than anything else. His headache was apparently perpetual. "Lupin," he said, wearily. "Thanks to you the next nine months will be 'a bad time'. You can come back after that if you wish, but I expect that would greatly displease the headmaster."

Lupin scuffed his trunk with the edge of his boot, nervously. "Then I had best stay."

"Unfortunately so."

Severus turned away and nodded to a short passage that lead from his living room, terminating in a door of stained oak, identical to the rest of those in his chambers. "That is to be your room," he informed, absently. "One of the house-elves will unpack your belongings, or you may do that yourself, if you so desire."

Lupin nodded, but did not move. "Severus," he said. "I have been doing some thinking."

Those were not words Severus liked to hear. Most often, from whomever they came, they forwarded something to which Severus would most likely object. Some people, he believed, should be strongly discouraged from thinking. Remus Lupin was definitely one of them. He turned back around, raising an eyebrow lazily to feign interest in what ever Lupin was about to say

"I owe you a pretty major apology. For my lack of control that -- that night and for..." The werewolf trailed off and narrowed his eyes critically at Severus. "My God, you look terrible."

Severus snorted. "How very observant of you," he said. "For your information I do happen to feel pretty terrible as well. Not really surprising, considering I've been throwing up most of the day, Lupin."

"I don't understand," Lupin frowned. "How come you're so sick already? Most women..."

Severus sneered. "I am not 'most women.'"

"No, of course not. I didn't mean..." Lupin flashed a soft, apologetic smile at Severus. "I really am sorry, you know," he continued. "I don't suppose there is anything I can say to make you accept that, however."

"No."

"Very well."

"Is there anything else?" Severus crossed his arms firmly in front of his chest, drawing is dressing gown closer around him. He really aught to be dressed by now, but found he didn't really care.

Lupin shook his head. "Not right now," he said. "But I am certain we have a few things to discuss later."

"Such as?" Severus arched an eyebrow again. "Have you been considering colours for the nursery already?"

"Severus--"

"Save it, Lupin," Severus spat. "You said we have a few things to discuss later, not now." He turned and made for his bedchambers, desiring nothing more than to be away from Lupin and the threat of his insipid banter.

"Where are you going?"

"To have a shower," he said, not bothering to look over his shoulder as he shut his bedchamber door behind him. Within the sanctuary of his en suite bathroom, he turned on the hot water and listened to it splutter over the bottom of the tub for a moment. Slipping out of his dressing grown and under the jets, he stood motionless as the water dribbled lazily across his sallow skin, washing away the last of his nausea. It was a shame, he thought, he couldn't wash Lupin away.

Dipping his head forward, he wet his hair and raked his fingers lightly though it. A hazy fragment of memory suddenly and unexpected came to him of how Lupin had run his fingers though his hair just like than the night they had had sex. Repulsed, Severus shut off the water and stepped out of the tub.

"Damn you, Lupin," he growled to himself.

Back in his bedchambers, he dried himself off on a fluffy white towel and wrapped it around his body before curling up on his bed, on top of the covers. Dressing was not worth it. He was tired, worn and ill, and wanted nothing more than to allow sleep to claim him as soon as possible. Despite the hour, he decided to turn in for the night. Discarding the towel, he felt under his pillow for his nightshirt. After pulling it on, he crawled beneath the covers and curled up on his side once more. One hand snuck sleepily to his abdomen.

Within moments, sleep lapped over him and did its best to sooth his cares until morning.

* * *

**A/N:** This is the last of the revised chapters. Chapter three is new and will be posted some time next week. (Allowing for any further technological catastrophes. I've had several recently.)

I have always considered this chapter to be a little rushed, although I felt it necessary to get the story moving along as soon as possible. When I originally posted this chapter, some reviewers expressed their astoundment at Dumbledore moving Lupin into Snape's rooms. Although I kept this part of the plot, I have taken these issues into account in the revising of the above chapter and the writing of the next. I hope you can forgive me for my madness! My only other option was to seriously alter the way this story was going to run.

Thank you to all of you who read and reviewed the last chapter. Any feedback is welcome, whether general comments, suggestions, or constructive criticism.

And thanks to my beta Sparkler, who had to put up with me nagging.


	4. Chapter III

**Chapter III:**

Remus stood on the banks of the lake, his eyes cast out across the water, although he did not really see the scene. Upon waking, a mere half hour earlier, he was met with the instant desire to be outside, and feel natural light upon his skin. After one night, he already felt the impenetrable claustrophobia of the dungeons pressing upon his chest, smothering him. He assumed that he would, after a period, grow accustomed to his new rooms, but at the same time was conscious that that was only one of many things to which he must adjust.

Out towards the middle of the lake, the surface suddenly broke, snagging Remus' attention. It was the giant squid, no doubt, or some other fantastic creature rising from the depths to briefly greet the day before disappearing from sight. Remus felt a surge of envy at not being able to do the same.

Sighing, he jammed his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. Along the bank, a pair of ducks had their bills to the mud, sifting out worms and other grubs for their morning meal. Remus' stomach growled. With the dire need to escape into the fresh morning air as much as he did upon waking, he was yet to breakfast and it was that – his hunger - that dragged him back across the lawns a few minutes later.

Trudging forwards, his head down and his mind lost in thought, he didn't notice Minerva McGonagall until he nearly bumped into her upon the steps ascending to the castle.

"You're up early."

Remus started and looked up, pausing half-way between steps. The professor was dressed in light, summer robes quite unlike those she wore during the school year, although her hair was still pulled back tightly and pinned perfectly into place.

"Yes," said Remus. "I wanted to get some fresh air. I trust you are well."

McGonagall squinted in the bright morning sun as she cast a long, serious look over Remus. "Never mind how I am," she said with a dismissive gesture. "How are _you_?"

"I'm-" For a second, Remus' automatic response caught on his tongue. "I'm fine. Thank you."

McGonagall peered sceptically over her glasses at him. A Head of House always knew when one of her own was being liberal with the truth, even if they had not been a pupil for nearly two decades now.

"Well, um," Remus blundered, squirming slightly. "Let's say I'm doing a lot better than Severus anyway."

McGonagall nodded, apparently satisfied. "Breakfast with me?"

"Of course."

Remus allowed himself to be ushered into the Great Hall, the smell of freshly-brewed coffee and sweet pastries greeting his nostrils pleasantly. For the duration of the summer holidays, the House tables and benches had been pushed to the side and replaced with much smaller ones for the use of remaining staff and guests. McGonagall nodded Remus in the direction of a table to the far end of the hall.

"Continental style today," she said, sitting down and helping herself to a croissant and jam. Absently, Remus picked an apple from the central bowl. "Not exactly my usual cup of tea, but one can never truly fault the food here, don't you agree?"

Remus nodded, picking up a knife to slice his fruit, cutting through the shinny skin and into flesh. He wrestled to bring his mind to order. "The best food I've ever tasted," he said gentle, his eyes to his plate.

They ate in silence for a few minutes and Remus found he could not keep his mind from wandering. A heavy unease had settled within him unlike any he would have ever expected to have experience within these castle walls. Even three years ago, when he arrived to take position among the faculty with the needless anxiety of Sirius' escape hanging over him, he had not felt such a sensation. For all his soul ached under each of the burdens placed upon him then, he kept his spirits up in some manner or other.

He had a focus.

Now, his expected role and duty had naturally been outlined to him by the headmaster, but he failed to warm to it.

"_I want you to take care of him, Remus - for his sake, and for the sake of your child."_

Remus' ears may have been deaf for all these words stirred in him. Perhaps the phrase "your child" was supposed to appeal to his emotions, to his paternal instincts. But wherever they happened to lie, they were smothered by his rational judgment. Doubt after doubt turned over in his head concerning what he was being asked to do, rapidly and repeatedly forming the same conclusion:

Such an endeavour would be futile.

Remus glanced around the Hall, chewing steadily on his breakfast. Why am I here? he pondered. By the one person he was supposed to be here for, he was not plainly wanted and therefore he was surely wasting his time -- time that could be much better spent performing duties for the Order.

McGonagall cleared her throat softly. "Knut for them."

"Pardon?" Remus looked up and across the table at McGonagall, who smiled at him.

"For your thoughts," she explained. "You seem preoccupied. I don't think I need to ask why."

Remus flushed, embarrassed by the evidence his distraction. "I am awful company."

"I'll forgive you." McGonagall smiled again - a kind, careful smile probably reserved for distressed students. "I dare say I would be pretty dreadful company too, if I were in your situation."

"Do you have children?" Remus asking abruptly, the word tumbling from his mouth before properly formed in his brain. He cheeks burned even more intensely.

McGonagall shook her head. "No – but I have a House full of adolescents. My vocation is teaching, not motherhood."

"I have always wanted to be a father," Remus admitted, a hint of wistfulness creeping into his voice. "But I never thought--"

"You never thought it would be with Severus."

"I never thought I'd find someone who would what want to carry my child," Remus amended. He sighed despondently. "I still haven't. He's furious with me for getting him –- well, you know."

"Perhaps you should remind him that it takes two to tango," McGonagall said, sipping her tea, a slight grin twisting on her lips.

"I don't think that would go down very well. That night was – we were - Oh God." Remus buried his head in his hands. He couldn't believe he was discussing 'that night' with his ex-head of House. "It should never have happened."

Remus felt a new wave of self-directed fury threatening to engulf him. How could he have been so careless – so totally out of control – to get drunk beyond all reasonable sense, have unprotected sex with a man who loathed him, and impregnate him in the process? For all the amity he tried muster around Severus, for all the sense he tried to speak, he couldn't bring himself to not hate the situation he found himself in. Where was the joy in fatherhood when the other parent despised the idea so violently?

McGonagall reached out and patted his arm soothingly. "I wish there was something I could do to ease your suffering, Remus," she said, earnestly. "And I wish I had never seen that out coot's damned prediction."

"That's very kind if you, Minerva." Remus lifted his head from his hands and managed a half-hearted smile. "But I expect the 'old coot' would have made her prediction had you been there or not. As for my suffering... I'm fine. Really, I am. Severus, however..."

"Just a little annoyed?"

"And as sick as a dog. In fact—" Remus scraped back, making to stand. "I should probably be getting back. He'll most likely kill me for doing so, but so will Albus if I do not."

"He really is making you live together, then. That's quite absurd, even for Albus."

Remus shrugged. "It will certainly be interesting." He rose, brushing crumbs from his robes. "Thank you for your company, Minerva, and for your ear."

"Any time, Remus," McGonagall assured, grabbing his wrist as he made to leave. "And just to put your mind at ease, Remus: anyone who wouldn't want you as the father of their child must need their head examining."

Remus nodded curtly. For all the compassion in McGonagall's words, he could not find them reassuring. He could not doubt Severus' sanity, nor could he counter his cries of injustice. If their positions had been reversed -- well, Remus was not sure how wonderfully he'd be taking the turn of events, either.

Trailing down the stairs into the dank depths of the dungeons, Remus shivered as the damp, chill air smacked his face. He despised the place; it was dark and it was hostile. Every brick seemed to be whispering to him that he wasn't welcome there.

Yet he had to make himself at home there for the next nine months.

Remus pushed his way through Severus' wards with a few uttered passwords, taking a deep breath before slipping quietly into the Potions master's living room.

The man in question sat by the unlit fire, his long, thin body curled up in an armchair as he glared darkly at the floor. The sight caught the breath tightly in Remus' chest as it clashed violently with his mental scheme of things. The Severus Snape he knew was not supposed to look this weak, still huddled up in his nightshirt as morning drew to a close, swathed up in a shocking vulnerability. Remus clutched the doorframe tightly as he fought to compose himself.

"How are you feeling?" he asked quietly.

Severus didn't look up. "Like I want to get you castrated," he said. His voice sounded strained and sore. "For God's sake, don't ask such insipid question. My head hurts and I haven't the energy for an argument."

"I didn't want to argue, Severus."

Severus lifted his chin, lank strands of hair falling away to reveal a face that was eerily pasty and pale. "Shame," he said, his eyes narrowing dangerously within dark rings of shadow. "I can think of nothing that would give me greater pleasure. How unfortunate it is then, that I can barely gather the strength to drag myself off to vomit somewhere other than on my living room floor. Be assured that anything else is quite out of the question."

"Severus, I--"

"Either come in or leave, Lupin. I would prefer the latter, but either way, please desist lurking in the doorway. You're letting in a draft." Severus' chin slumped back to his chest. Remus lingered where he was for a moment longer, transfixed and terrified.

"Is there any thing I can do to—"

"No," Severus snapped. He curled tighter and deeper into the arm chair, his eyes closing for a second. "For the love of God, just stay away from me."

Remus let go of the doorframe finally, feeling exposed and vulnerable without it resting reassuringly against his palm. He folded his arms up in his robes, frowning "Do you wish for me to spend the next nine months in my rooms?" he said, taking a cautious step forward.

"Do you really need to ask?"

"Do you really have an answer?" Remus toyed with the idea of taking the chair across the coffee table from Severus, but remained standing. For this angle, Severus looked even paler, almost grey. "Damn it, Severus – talk to me!"

"I have nothing to say that you wish to hear."

"I hold no expectation that you would." Remus voice was soft -- a timid whisper. He loathed himself for it. "Tell me what to do."

"You sound desperate, Lupin." Severus lifted his head for his knees. The faintest trace of a smirk crept across his features. "How are _you_ feeling? Guilty? Afraid? I am not sure I dare imagine what thoughts are going though you piteous brain."

Remus frown deepened. "Have you ever been capable of conversing with someone without accusations and insults?"

"Lupin, I do not wish to be conversing with you at all."

"We need to talk, Severus. I may not like this situation anymore than you do, but ignoring it won't make it disappear."

"Which situation would that be?" Severus sighed. "Unwanted pregnancy or forced co-habitation?"

Remus shrugged. "Both. Either," he said. Perhaps he really was desperate. He certainly felt something of a similar ilk. It squirmed unpleasantly in his stomach. "Why are you being so obstinate?"

Severus unfolded his limbs and uncurled his body, pulling himself erect in his chair. He meet Remus eye steadily. "Self-preservation, Lupin," he said, darkly. "I believe you, of all people, understand the notion."

Remus bit the tip of his tongue to hold back a retort. "I think we all are," he replied. "But I'm not sure that is was this is about."

"Really."

Severus held Remus gaze a moment longer before standing, slowly and shakily. He rested the tips of his fingers against the chair of the arm for a moment, as if attempting to catch his balance without being noticed doing so. "I have things I need to be doing today, Lupin. Reports, research, preparation for the coming term... I really don't have time for this now."

"This isn't my fault, Severus."

Severus turned, his faded grey nightshirt swishing languidly around his ankles and over his bony feet. "I don't care," he muttered, barely loud enough for Remus to catch. "I really don't care."

With that, Severus drew away from the fireside and towards his bedchambers. He turned once, by his door, his lips falling partially asunder as if he was about to speak. No words came. He slipped from the room with an aggrieved sigh, leaving Remus staring into the space he had just vacated.

Remus felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to scream out his frustrations. Stumbling towards the sofa, he flopped down into it in a fit of despondence. He dared not wonder how au fait with Severus' bitter temper he would have to become; he already thought he knew it well enough. Drawing a cushion to his chest for comfort, he glanced around Severus' living room. Bookcases lined the walls, breaking only a couple of glass-fronted cabinets displaying objects and artefacts that made Remus shiver. Each shelve was chaotic, books crammed randomly into any available space and spilling onto piles on the floor where there was none. Journals littered the coffee-table, and an array of mugs and glasses in desperate need of washing. There were no objets d'art. No plants.

Remus grimaced. This was certainly not the kind of place he had any desire to call home. It was hostile and disarrayed, the complete opposite of any home had he ever tried to foster. Rather uncharitably, he believed it suited Severus perfectly.

* * *

Severus sat on the end of his bed, a quill and letter paper balanced on his knee. With his fingertips, he massaged his aching forehead while his thumb brushed against two days worth of stubble on his cheek. Still feeling ill despite the potion he had managed to ingest, he had dressed himself in only shirt and trousers, rather begrudgingly. He immediately wished to be back in his nightshirt.

Taking a deep breath, he collected himself and returned his thoughts to the matter at hand. Leaning forward, he dipped the tip of his quill in the bottle of ink that sat on the floor by his feet.

_Avery,_ he wrote, struggling to keep his script legible.

_I will regrettably be unable to attend your dinner party this evening. Matters have arisen at Hogwarts that I am unable to excuse myself from without suspicion. I am sure you understand how important it is for me to keep myself in Dumbledore's favour and trust. I will be in touch again as soon is it safe for me to do so._

_Please send my regards to Mrs Malfoy and her son._

_Sincerely,_

_S. Snape._

Severus threw his quill down as a wave of nausea washed over him, too icy to be morning sickness. Death Eater 'dinner parties' always ended predictable, the _entertainment_ always the same. He couldn't say he wasn't glad to excuse himself.

Yet he still felt in two minds. I had taken months to worm his way back into the inner circles of the Death Easters, even with the backing of Lucius Malfoy. It had taken months further to gain enough parity among their ranks to be allowed to attend full meetings. He still was not permitted to approach the Dark Lord, other than to prostrate before him. Almost every piece of information he had passed to the Order, not matter what its significance, had been second-hand. Both he and Dumbledore knew that his usefulness as a spy was turbulent; both knew it would take time and chance to reach fruition.

Now, however, Severus struggled to raise enough spirit to expect such a thing. A pregnant spy with his main informant in prison was one rather down on his luck.

There was much he needed to discuss with the headmaster.

Standing, Severus folded the letter neatly and placed it in his pocket. He'd take it to his owl later. With one hand, he rubbed absently at his stomach. His sides ached from vomiting and his throat was raw; he prayed that each day wouldn't be like this and the last from now on. He wasn't sure he'd survive such torture. How did women do it?

He snorted, remembering something his mother had once said.

"_You gave me such hell while I was carrying you, Severus – always a typical Snape."_

Perhaps it was genetic, then. By God, that was a terrible notion. With a sigh he moved from the bed, snatching up a bottle of water from the chest-of-drawers as he moved slowly and silently towards his bedchamber door. It stood ajar, just enough from him to peek out into the living room but not be seen. He took a sip of the water as his eyes, narrowing, trained on Lupin. The werewolf was sitting deeply in his sofa, his head tipped back and his hands gathered in his lap. Severus was grateful he couldn't make out his face. He wasn't sure he sure could muster the energy to be angry at those amiable features.

"'Be civil,'" he growled to himself. "Pah."

The headmaster asked for miracles. He stepped back from the door and closed it gently. Draining the last of his water, he let the bottle drop to the floor. The drink had done nothing to ease with pain in his head or throat and it refreshed him only enough to feel a little less disgusting than before.

Frowning darkly, he failed to keep his mind from returning to Lupin. The man who had moved into his chambers was a puzzle. He was startlingly out of kilter with anything Severus had come to expect. He always thought he had Lupin figured out; there surely was little more to him. Mild-mannered, thoughtful, polite... sometimes Lupin made Severus want to scream. Yet what was it he had glimpsed in those soft brown eyes? That was anguish if he wasn't very much mistaken, or some other manner of pain or discomfort.

His vindictive convictions wavered for a moment, in battle with unwelcome sensibilities. He felt smothered under the weight of his unyielding stubbornness. It didn't do much to help his nausea.

* * *

**A/N:** Once again, many thanks for Sparkler for the beta'ing, support and enthusiasm. Without her, you'd be reading about Death Easters.

All reviews are much appreciated. Thank you for letting me know what you think, as this lets me know that I am on the right track (or not). So thank you to ReeraTheRed, YaoiObsessed, karasuhime, Quills 'N Ink, Arren, Epona , Vaughn, tall oaks, Arch-Nemesis, mydracomalfoy, lorraine , CuriousDreamWeaver, hipa, Linda, sea priestess, Lord Localfreak, NeuroticSquirrel, aNONY, we3 and risi.

(The damn problem with this site is that you can't respond to reviews. I dearly wish I could!)

Edit: Chapter replaced to to fix a couple of errors and to try out a horizontal rule.


	5. Chapter IV

**Chapter IV:**

Severus didn't emerge from his bedchamber until early evening. The sickness had returned shortly after midday and he had been unable to keep down another dose of potion. When the retching finally subsided, he had collapsed on his bed and fallen into a fitful sleep. He woke drenched in a cold sweat, the terror of a dream he could not quite remember still caught up inside him. He nearly threw up over the side of his bed.

He still felt the chill now; such dreams had an unnerving tendency to cling to him for hours after. Flinging a blanket around his shoulders, he took a few deep, composing breaths before stepping out into the living room. Lupin was still seated on the sofa, curled up in one corner with a book balanced on its arm. He didn't look up as Severus moved to the sideboard, his mind set upon brewing a refreshing mug of peppermint tea.

Drawing his wand from his sleeve, Severus flicked it in the general direction of the kettle, which steamed noisily as he fished around in the drawers for a teabag and took a mug from the rack on the wall. Once the infusion was ready, Severus drew the mug to him, warming his fingers on the thick china. It wasn't until he had settled himself in his chair by the fireplace that he felt the acute discomfort of Lupin's eyes upon him.

"What do you want, Lupin?" he snapped. "If you wish to _talk_, please have the courtesy to let me finish my tea first."

"As you wish," Lupin said, turning back to his reading. Severus raised his mug to his lips, pushing away any pondering on the irritating weariness Lupin's voice held as he inhaled the brisk aroma of his drink.

Taking slow, steady sips, his mind began to drift. He was conscious that Lupin's gaze had returned to him, but didn't have it in him to care. Let the werewolf stare if he wants, Severus thought. Damned if he was to be intimidated by the man in his own home.

Finally, draining the last of the tea and setting the mug on the coffee table, he looked up. He meet Lupin's gaze with a brittle confidence, and his tone was cold as he spoke. "So... I understand there are things you wish to discuss."

"Much," Lupin said. He licked his finger and turned a page of the heavy tome he was hunched over, but did not break eye contact.

"What are you reading?"

Lupin held up the book for Severus to examine: Wizarding Society in Tudor England. Severus snorted, disdainfully. "I'll thank you not to raid my bookshelves without asking."

"I have read the material I brought with me. You have quite a library, but if I have offended you..."

Severus waved a hand dismissively. "Mind you do not damage it. And don't touch any of my Potions books, or anything from over there." He nodded towards the piles of books against the far wall of the room. The very look of them was menacing, leather and parchment seething with something deeply unhallowed. He fancied he saw Lupin shudder.

"Yes, I noticed your collection was also quite... diverse."

"Were you expecting something to the contrary?"

Lupin did not reply. Looking away, he turned his gaze wide; Severus watched it tumble critically over the room. "Don't the house-elves—"

"The house-elves clean only if I ask them to," Severus interrupted. "Do not expect me to apologise for my disorganisation. Frankly, I feel it is rather rude of you to—"

"Forgive me, Severus. I did not mean to speak out of turn. As your guest, it was not my place to judge."

"No, it was not," Severus scowled. "I take it that you do not intend for us to discuss household management."

Lupin closed his book and shook his head. The trepidation was plain in his voice. "How long do you intend on staying angry with me, Severus? I am – I'm finding this rather difficult, at the moment. I'm not sure I have yet recovered from the shock."

"Lupin, if you expect me to offer my sympathy..."

"No, Severus." Lupin uncurled himself from his reading position and sat up. "I only wish for you cooperation. I know you are suffering terribly, but surely you can see hostility is not going to help matters... May I join you?" He gestured at the chair across from Severus.

"If you must."

"Thank you." Lupin rose and moved to settle himself into his new seat, somewhat tentatively. He continued, "I believe I told you yesterday that I had been doing some thinking. Rather an understatement, in retrospect: I have been unable to keep my mind on anything other than this... _situation_ since I was informed of its existence." He looked up and met Severus with a purposeful stare. "It's been eating me alive, Severus. I don't think I can convey to you how terrible I feel – how _sorry_ - for reasons much greater than you disinclination to allow me to do so. I'm not sure there would even be a place for me to start."

He paused momentarily, shaking his head. The words hung in a heavy tangle between them. For some reason he had no desire to analyse, Severus had no mind to disturb Lupin's little speech just yet.

"Every road of thought has left me more and more confused. There are only two things that I know for certain: I am no happier with this situation than you are, and something has to be done to ease both our suffering. I was wondering if perhaps a truce—"

"A truce?" Severus blinked.

"We are both grown adults, Severus. Friendship may be beyond us, but I have always been optimistic that civility is not."

Severus arched an eyebrow and regarded Lupin sceptically. He could almost taste the retorts gathering on his tongue, and cursed himself for not having the energy to utter them. Another sudden chill running over him, he drew his blanket tighter around his shoulders before saying, finally and disdainfully, "How exactly do you propose such a truce would work, Lupin? Have you been colluding with the headmaster?"

"No," Lupin replied plainly. "Believe it or not, I don't actually agree with what he has ordered us to do. There is simply nothing I can do about it." He started pointedly at Severus' blanket, then to Severus' hands wrapped firmly around each other against his chest. "Are you cold?"

Before Severus make a denial, Lupin brandished his wand and pointed it at the fireplace. "_Incendio!_"

"Lupin!" Severus implored as the fire sprang up. He tried to ignore the pleasant lick of the sudden warmth across his skin. "What do you think you are doing? Annoying me is not a good start to a 'civility.'"

"You look almost fevered, Severus."

"I'm fine." Severus countered Lupin's worrying with a deep scowl and spoke through gritted teeth. "Perfectly fine. Answer my question about your 'truce'."

Leaning back into his chair, Lupin obliged. "I was thinking-- It would be for the sake for comfort and sanity, Severus. I don't expect this to be pleasant, just workable. I think we both know that Albus is being a little... _optimistic_, shall we say, but I see no reason for our co-habitation to be a compete misery." He had a soft, sickening little tone to his voice that made his words sound unquestionably rational, despite Severus' best efforts to raise thoughts to the contrary. "It makes sense. After all, even without all that has happened now, we are fighting a war together..."

Severus stiffened. "I know that, Lupin," he said quickly, before the words had chance to catch in his throat. "You certainly do not have to remind me."

"No, of course not. I only meant that we already have some form of association requiring amenity, and I'd much rather it wasn't strained."

"Lupin, might I remind you why you and I have never—"

"Don't!" Lupin interrupted, tensing. "Don't drag up the past – please."

"You did not even know what I was going to say..." Severus said with deceptive smoothness. He managed a weak smirk.

"I did," Lupin asserted. His eyes meet Severus' own, something akin to a challenge flashing in them briefly. "Let it go, Severus. You gave as good as you got, and we have been more than even for two years now."

Ah, Severus thought. Touché. Perhaps the werewolf had more iron in his backbone than he had previously believed. He watched as Lupin lowered his gaze, his manor returning the one Severus was accustomed to. An air of solemn contemplation hung around him.

"Am I asking the impossible?"

Through the sheer weariness that enveloped him, Severus felt himself stray uncomfortably close to acquiescing. His drained mind offered little against the temptation of giving up without a fight – anything for some peace. "No," he muttered though gritted teeth. "Not impossible. Just against the conventions I have grown accustomed to."

He let that thought dangle. It was as close as a verbal agreement as he was likely to give. His wretched state allowed him some scraps of dignity, at least. A nervous trace of a smile quirked across Lupin's lips for moment, as though he too knew he been given as much as he could expect.

"I know, Severus," he said, softly. "I know."

It was a damnable thing, Severus thought to himself later, over another mug of peppermint tea, that Lupin was so infuriatingly agreeable. As much as he loathed to admit it, Lupin was nothing like Black; he an entirely different thorn in Severus' side. He was quieter and harder to goad, not volatile like his dead friend. He was so disgustingly _nice_, yet intense and poignant all at the same time. Never mind that he was a monster – that was irrelevant beside his everyday demeanour, and much less of an irritant.

The evening passed in silence, only broken by the soft shuffle of turning pages after Lupin returned to his book and Severus had taken up his own. Absorbed in his reading, Severus curled into his chair and blanket, the fire easing the last of his chills. He ignored the occasional glance he felt fall upon him from Lupin's direction, scowling to his page until each on passed. He could not tell what he sensed from Lupin: it was a curious mixture of fear and intrigue, solemnly woven together with an array of other emotions he didn't wish to consider.

The clock on the mantelpiece stuck eleven, and then twelve, before either man moved. Lupin was the first to retire, gathering his book to him as he stood and arched out his spine. In the darkening glow of the firelight, his eyes sank mournfully into shadows on his face. Looking up, Severus winced in distaste.

"Goodnight then, Severus. I shall see you in the morning."

Lupin drew away and headed for his rooms without waiting for a response. Staring into the fire, Severus watched him move absently though the corner of his eye. Despite the late hour, and despite the infirmity that still rested heavily on his bones, he could not find the desire to take himself to bed just yet. His mind was too thick with thoughts. His attention, no longer held by his book, drifted and wavered until he fell into a light trance.

He sat motionless for the longest of time, watching the embers fade and die.

* * *

The next few days past by in an increasingly predictable fashion, their pattern as reliable and regular as clockwork. The mornings dragged and melted into afternoons, and found Severus hanging over the toilet bowl, sick and dizzy. When he had no energy and stomach contents left, he'd curl up on the bathroom floor, cold tiles pressed against his cheek. He only picked himself up again out of necessity, washing and dressing as the evenings brought with them the need to work.

The locked drawer at the side of his bed was stuffed with reports and letters. Dire things that demanded his attention without undue delay – things that held no regard for the inconveniences of pregnancy. Rubbing his temple, Severus poured over each of them, a glass of water within easy reach and his bedroom door securely locked.

"..._Disappointed that we did not get to see you this weekend... I understand you dilemma, but you must give mind to ours... ranks a little depleted..."_

"..._No news from Azkaban, but we are hopeful ...expect to be hearing from us..."_

"... _Worried for mother...wondering if perhaps you could speak on my behalf...you know I am impatient to show my support for..."_

Severus lent up against the side of his bed, and let his head fall on to the mattress with a despondent sigh. He stared up at the enchanted mirror that hung above the chest-of-drawers – a hideous Snape family heirloom that no one else seemed to want - its concave glass giving a distorted reproduction of the view from the north-tower. Rain lashed across image, as a quick summer shower seized the castle grounds. Severus watched it, blearily, as he tried to find the will to deal with the correspondence gathered in his lap. It eluded him for several dragging moments.

There wasn't really much to do. Read – respond – report to Dumbledore... it struck Severus as rather menial when he actually gave it some thought. And while the letters had been coming more frequent of late, they held nothing of any great value.

"I know you are frustrated. I understand, Severus," the headmaster had said, as Severus glared despairingly at him, brandishing the latest notes from Avery and Nott. "Calm down. It cannot be good for you, this stress. Have some tea."

Severus' lip curled, wanting to shove the sugar tongs down Dumbledore's throat.

"You're loosing a weapon, Albus," he replied. "Do not tell me to be calm."

The look on the old wizard's face became unreadable. He lowered his teacup and his gaze. "You have never been a weapon. You have your uses, Severus – but no matter what I ask you to do, never forget this: your value stretches beyond your task."

Severus snorted, recalling the conversation with liberal measure of acrimony. He scrunched the piece of parchment closest to him up in his shacking fist – it was Draco Malfoy's letter. The boy was going to be just like his father; Severus had seen it in him from the moment he first stepped into Hogwarts. He was confident and proud, and held firm to everyone to every thread of his pure-blood upbringing – damned since birth, it seemed.

Severus wondered how many Aurors it would take to bring him down, and how many would perish at his wand before then.

Carefully uncrumpling the letter, Severus smoothed it out on his knee and rummaged around in his draw for a quill and some ink to form his replies.

_Mr Malfoy,_ he wrote, scratching the words across a piece of Slytherin headed notepaper. Cold dread rose up in him – like he was signing his name to a death sentence.

_I regret I am not in a position to assist you in this matter. My association with you your father does not reflect the communication I have with our master. Your inquiry would be better served if addressed to those with greater sway in our ranks. If you wish to discuss this matter in September, I urge discretion. There are limits to how far I can protect you._

_As for your concern regarding you mother—_

Severus broke off and took a sip of his water before continuing. He wrote each of his replies in quick succession, his mind so detached the casual observe might imagine he was marking second-year Potions essays. Only the slight knitting of his brows betrayed him, tensing against the arch in his head: only the dark set of his face as he trailed liberal truth and downright lies across the parchment.

When he laid down his quill for a final time, he glared up at his mirror once more. Its image shifted to show the entirety of his living room, curled at the edges. He could see Lupin hunched over a book, the curved glass accentuating the angles of his body and face, making him look gaunt. Severus' frown deepened, and he stored his papers back in the drawer, slamming it shut with a snort. His first impulse was to pour himself a stiff drink, and maybe smoke some cigarettes and just be still until everything felt not quite so damn sordid.

But Pomfrey had already given him that _particular _lecture. She had always looked disdainfully upon his lifestyle, and now had "for the good of your child" added to her arsenal. By the time his appointment with the woman had finished the day previous, Severus felt so terribly cantankerous, he was more than tempted to snatch up his Silk Cut and pour himself a neat gin out of pure, unbridled spite.

Harassed and at a loose end, he now pulled himself up from the floor and slumped onto his bed. The pillows were invitingly soft, so much so he could feel the teasing allure of sleep tugging at his eyelids. It took considerable effort to heave himself up again, and straighten the duvet and pull a jumper on over his crumpled shirt. His work was far from done; he had potions that required brewing and a syllabus to plan and—

Oh God: he still needed to apply for the Defence job.

It was tradition, after all.

* * *

Remus slowly grew accustomed to his new dwellings, if not his situation. At first he would wake up in the middle of the night, stricken with the panic of not remembering where he was. His bedchamber was densely black, lacking the comforting glow of streetlamps streaming though curtains. He hated the dark – it reminded him of cellars and cells and all manner of hostile places that had plagued his childhood on a monthly basis. He had quickly taken to spelling a candle to burn the night, chasing away the terror with its gentle iridescence.

He had tried to make his rooms his own, too. The house-elves had been most helpful, assisting him in retrieving some of his belongings from storage. His bookshelves were now neatly laden with books and journals, his bed covered with a deep-blue velvet bedspread that had seen better days. A battered copy of Hairy Snout, Human Heart rested on his nightstand, as always. Slowly, his little corner of the dungeons didn't feel quite so smothering.

Yet he could not shut himself up in there all day, nor did he wish to. He was too sociable in nature, and had grown too accustomed to living with company again. It was that disposition inside him that compelled him to pass his evenings in Severus' monstrosity of a living room, much to the Potions master's distaste. Words passed between them sparingly – whenever Severus spoke it seemed to Remus as if he were speaking to himself far more than acknowledging Remus' presence. It wasn't hostile; it could even be called amiable, after a fashion, though Remus could tell Severus was itching to release his contempt. Only time would tell what kind of a dynamic their co-habitation would fall into.

Towards one end of the living room stood a dark wooden table Remus imagined was once intended for dining, though when it had been last used so was impossible to determine. Clearing a space amongst the gathered books and parchment of an evening, he would set down diary and ink and pull up a chair. A shaded oil-lamp stood in the middle of the table, and cast a warm glow over the pages, light catching on the wet ink as Remus began wrote, his quill scratching with every stroke.

This writing had become his therapy, his blessed release from the trials of the day. He let his quill follow his thoughts, pursuing an openness he would not permit himself anywhere other than upon these private pages. His entries had turned contemplative of late, no longer filled with the activities of the day but with some attempt at unravelling his tangled understanding of the situation he found himself in.

Tonight was no exception. Looking up, he stroked the tip of his quill against his chin as he searched for the words to capture his thoughts. For a moment, his gaze strayed to the fireplace, to where Severus sat in his usual chair, fingers resting gently on the pages of a book in his lap. Remus nearly jumped when their eyes snagged – he hadn't been aware he was being watched.

"What are you doing, Lupin?"

"Writing," Remus replied simply.

"I can see that. Writing what, exactly?"

Remus pulled the battered book towards his chest protectively, suddenly feeling like a twelve-year-old schoolgirl. "My diary."

"A diary?" Severus traced a long, slender finger across his lips, arching an eyebrow in a show of bemused interest. "Stowing away all your little secrets, Lupin?"

Remus shrugged. "It helps me think."

"I see." Severus snorted and looked down, flicked over a page of his book. His fingers drummed irritably against the parchment.

"What have you been writing about me?"

"It's a _private_ diary." Remus blinked. He looked anxiously over to where Severus sat, almost completely withdrawn into the shadows. "Do you truly wish to know?" he asked, softly – sceptically.

"Yes – yes I want to know. What have you been writing, Lupin?"

Severus tone was incredulous; he sounded almost scandalised. Remus hesitated, his good-judgement eluding him right when should be guarding it most. He frowned, flicking his diary open once and smoothing down the pages, running a hand over them almost tenderly. The entry he had just written rested beneath his fingertips.

Severus peered out of the gloom by the fireplace, his eyes narrowed and now lifted to fix upon Remus. Remus could hear his breathing – heavy, steady and deliberate, with his impatience peeking out from beneath it. Scanning the word before him, Remus gathered himself, trying to shake off the distinct feeling he was being decidedly foolish.

"Very well," he said. Clearing his throat softly, he read, "Tonight will mark my tenth in the castle, and by the end of the week Severus will be one month along. I am slowly adjusting to the idea of fatherhood, though I dare not dwell too heavily on it for fear that everything will slip back into complete confusion. I am no closer to knowing what my feelings on the matter are – everything seems to be suspended between reluctant acceptance and rejection. I cannot even begin to imagine how much more acutely Severus feels this.

"Severus is still very ill. I have spent a lot of time with my ears and eyes averted, so as not to hear him retching, or see him wandering about in his nightshirt. Part of me wishes to spare him embarrassment; another suspects he is being deliberately brazen – trying to provoke my own--"

"Enough!"

Severus shifted irritably in his chair and glared. "I get the picture."

A weary sigh passing his lips, Remus shut the diary for a final time. "You wished to know," he said, weakly.

"And you chose to oblige."

"Well."

A familiar, thick silence fell. Remus rubbed absently at his wrist, stiff from writing and cramped by the pull of the moon, and searched for something appropriate to say. Severus' cold gaze did not leave him. It was impossible to know with any accuracy, what workings hide behind those dark eyes; Remus didn't think it wise to even hazard a guess. But elusive as it was, he could tell it was something worth regarding with cautious respect.

The tempers of Severus Snape were to be handled with care at all times. Remus wondered if he hadn't just done an appalling job of that.

Finding his tongue finally, he said, "I apologies if that sounded brutal, Severus."

"No need, Lupin. On the contrary – it was very informative." Severus sneered, his face falling into something much more readable, even though the shadows.

"Now, Severus—"

"Ah, hush... Like you said: I did ask. I can't help but wonder what other little _gems_ you have hidden away in there."

"The entries are mostly speculation – just me trying to sort things out in my head. You shouldn't pay them any mind."

"Don't fret, Lupin. I had no intention of doing so. _Insightful_ though you writing was—" Severus curled each word around his tongue, letting them fall deliberately from his lips, "— I can think of far better ways to spend my time that dwelling on them too deeply. I shall leave you to... 'sort things out' in peace."

He rose, tucking his book under his arm as he turned away. Remus pushed back his chair and stood abruptly, too.

"Please don't leave on my account."

"I am _tired_. Don't flatter yourself by thinking I am doing _anything_ on your account." Severus paused before his bedchamber door and looked over his shoulder. "You are fortunate to be able try and sort things out in your head," he said, fixing Remus with cryptic glare.

"What do you mean?"

"Only that some of us do not have time for such a luxury." Severus sighed, deeply, hesitantly turning back to the living room. "Lupin, you think too much. It is a wonder you haven't driven yourself insane."

Remus' eyes widened with startled intrigue, his mouth falling open though no words came. He leant against the side of the sturdy dining chair and returned Severus' gaze, concernedly.

"I envy you," Severus continued, his voice low and fatigued. "I envy you for having your discomfort in your mind rather than your body. The answer to your struggle is so simple; I think you must be a moron to have missed it. You truly are too easily worked up, Lupin. But I'm not even trying." His eyes narrowed weakly and set his face into a mask of depleted irritation. "You're a fool of a werewolf: if your maudlin analysis is getting you down, perhaps it is time you _gave it up_."

Remus jaw hung. He had to take several moments to find his tongue. "Severus, I didn't mean..." he started, but the words of the counter failed him. He simply shook his head and turned away. He heard Severus' bedchamber door click shut a moment later. Collapsing back into his chair, he stared blankly out into middle distance, the soft flicker of the firelight tugging at the fringe of his vision. His whole body tensed, stiffening against the onslaught of a guilt he had been entirely unprepared for.

_Damn it. Damn it all_.

_Oh, Severus_, he thought. _I am a fool, in so many more ways than I'd dare count. You've never shied away from pointing this out. I never meant to hurt you. I only meant..._

Certain truisms spun in Remus' head, about good intentions and paths to hell. And wasn't that just the story of his life? He thought. He sighed, breath catching in the knot of muscles in his chest and stomach as he released it, silently berating himself for getting tangled up in his thoughts and misery once again. Beneath his fingers, the worn leather covering his diary suddenly felt as cold as the terrible dungeon walls. Suddenly, he pushed it away as if in disgust, and got up from the table so sharply his bashed a knee beneath its top.

"You idiot – you idiot, Remus John Lupin. Pull yourself together!" he said out loud, his voice cutting though the empty room with only the crackle of burning logs for company. "Pull yourself together, for God's sake."

Looking about him, his eyes roaming over the nearest stacks of books and squinting to read the titles peeling from their spines. There would be something here that would suit his needs; he knew Severus was well versed in healing as well as potions, though his bedside manner was somewhat lacking. The two disciplines overlapped too much for him not to be.

Finally sighting something that looked promising, Remus dropped to his knees and snatched the book to him. He thumbed promptly to the index and scanned the columns until he found what he was looking for:

_Pregnancy, assisting your wife in_.

Well, he thought ironically. It was better than nothing.

* * *

**A/N:** I'll freely admit that this chapter was a nightmare to write. It is rather slow-going but (I feel) essential, and I had to work hard to get it to the point where I was happy with it. This combined with a heavy workload at university means I must offer you my apologies for not updating sooner!

However, I'd like to take this opportunity to say that I am totally committed to this story and am having so much fun writing it. Your feedback makes this process more enjoyable still, as it is wonderful to know that what I am writing is being read (and enjoyed, I hope). As I have said before, reviews can let me know what I am getting right, and what I am getting wrong, and allow me to repeat and alter were necessary as I continue writing. So, THANK YOU for leaving feedback :)

(I have added a link to a webpage in my profile that gives notes on this and other chapters, some of which address questions raised in feedback. Not sure why I made this, but I suspect it had a lot to do with a slow afternoon...)

As ever, thanks and love to Sparkler.


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